Beyond the Depths
by Lightning Streak
Summary: Samantha Manson is on an evening cruise with her parents. The ship unknowingly enters dangerous waters, where dark and hungry creatures await them. And the humans thought they'd killed them all. S/D, Mer!Danny. Gift-fic for too enigmatic 2 b urs.
1. The Human Ones and Their Trimphant GOD

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Hello, everyone! __This story is a late Christmas gift for _**_too enigmatic 2 b urs_**_, who has been an awesome friend here on the site and wanted me to write a mermaid story. We were talking one day about mermaids and how they're often seen as ultimately beautiful and good, even though many of their original legends were about them drowning sailors. I have expanded the darker side of those merfolk legends here in hopes of creating my own spin on a recurrent Danny Phantom AU._

_Summary: Samantha Manson is on an evening cruise with her parents. The ship unknowingly enters dangerous waters, where dark and hungry creatures await them. And the humans thought they'd killed them all. S/D, Mer!Danny. _

_Genre: Horror/Romance_

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><p><strong>Beyond the Depths<strong>

**Chapter One: The Human Ones and Their Triumphant G.O.D.**

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><p><em> "People, people," shouted the man on the television. On the pocket of his tailored military uniform was an acronym for his unit—the Global Oceanic Defense, or G.O.D. He was desperately attempting to speak over reporters, who swarmed like flies about the stand. "To answer your questions, yes! Yes, they're gone. They're all gone. The beasts who killed and cannibalized several hundreds of victims—we isolated their hordes and eradicated them. The oceans are clear again." <em>

_ "And how do we know they won't come back, or attack more of us when our guard's down?" demanded one reporter. "How can you promise this to the American people? To the world?" _

_ The man responded, voice lowering back into a typical, calm pattern, "We've fought two years to eradicate them, and we've bombed every coral nest of them we could find. We've combed the oceans and ensured that no signature of their…unique physiology remained. And now, we can take our lives and our oceans back. We can swim again. We can sail again. These beasts aren't coming back to haunt us." _

_ A reporter pressed, "Sir, how many did your army encounter before the oceans were finally clear?" _

_ "Hundreds, if not thousands. They had been grouping for some time." _

_ Another reporter shoved her way through the crowds, sticking a microphone in the man's face. "Sir, do you agree with the increasingly popular superstition that these humanoid beasts are in fact some remnant of people who—" _

"—_I won't be taking any more questions about the matter," the man interrupted, face steeling to hide a small blip of anxiety. "This conference was called to order to declare the War is over. Humanity is safe. If you have further questions regarding the origin or physiology of these beasts, the Global Oceanic Defense is currently employing local scientists to study the remains we've collected. But one thing I can tell you in confidence: our ancestors were wrong to romanticize these beasts in fairy tales. Call them merfolk, sirens, mermaids. Whatever. At the end of the day, they were very organized killing machines, and it doesn't matter what they really were or where they came from. It only matters that they're gone."_

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><p><strong>13 Years Later - Aboard <em>U.S.S Titan<em>**

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><p>The bolted lamps in the open-air dining hall glittered with crystal inlays, and the sheer light of it hurt to look at. Seventeen-year-old Samantha Manson closed her eyes to rid her retinas of the searing imprints of sharp daggers. At some point, she had looked up in an attempt to avoid watching her parents, who were currently seducing various investors with potential stock returns. They pleasantly laughed and drank wine at the different tables on the dining deck, looking exactly like the perfect couple.<p>

It was almost as sickening as the excessive grandeur surrounding her. But between induced blindness and seeing her parents financially whore themselves out, she would choose blindness every time.

She ran a finger along the lead crystal of her drinking glass, and she tried to focus on the soft wind of the air as the ship sailed. The newly-renovated evening cruise ship _Titan_ was rich and excessive. It was a perfect rendezvous for any self-respecting Manson, as her parents had a natural talent for mixing business with pleasure—just as they had a natural talent for guilt-tripping their only daughter. _We want to spend time with you,_ they had said. _We hardly see you anymore_. _Why don't you come with us on a dinner cruise? It's just for one evening!_

"Why did I let them convince me?" she groaned, feeling even worse now that she realized she was only a pawn to make her parents look like a classic American family. They'd spent all of five minutes with her since they'd boarded the cruise, running off the instant they smelled money lining the pockets of several other guests.

They'd point to her and wave from across the room, and their potential investors—old men, other classic American families, some foreigners—would look at their dark and sleek daughter and see an heir to carry on the Manson empire.

Her parents did not used to be that way, but the Manson family fortune had taken a large dive over a decade ago from the War. They had placed too many stocks in industries that suffered from the drop in ocean shipments. They were still trying to regain their losses.

Sam stared out the ship's glass siding at the blood-red sunset that had begun to sink beneath the horizon. Orange, wispy clouds—like fingers—streaked across the sky. She felt as if the clouds were claws bearing down on her, grabbing at her shoulders, her neck. It was suffocating.

She tried not to think about it.

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><p>Down below the deck, a group of technicians were monitoring the boilers and turbines of the small ship, as well as other mechanical concerns. Their leader, an older gentlemen with a scruffy appearance, asked, "How're those boilers, Jimmy?"<p>

"Running smooth, sir."

"Good." The old man sat down slowly onto one of the steps that led up to the main galley. He grimaced a bit, rubbing at his legs. "I figured this old rust bucket would give us more trouble than this. Looks like we can relax a bit, boys. Why don't you go up to the galley and grab yourself something to eat?"

The other men cheered lightly, pulling off their headsets and standing up from their computer stations. They all passed by their leader, clapping him on the back. "Bring you back something?"

The old man raised a scruffy brow. "None of that cuisine crap—just a cup o' coffee will do for me."

"Got it!"

And so they all disappeared up the steps. But one young technician, Jimmy, stayed behind. The old man stared at him, and Jimmy looked up in slight puzzlement. "Uh, sir? Not to raise any alarms, but I'm getting a weird echo on our radar. I wanted your opinion on it."

"Can you flip the switch so I can hear it?"

"Yes, sir!" And the younger man flipped the switch. Immediately, the unearthly sound of clicks lowering down from the highest to the lowest octave echoed in the cabin.

The oldest looked a bit perturbed, but he said, "It could just be an echo off of the rocks. This _is _coral territory. We also get a lot of eddies through here that make weird sounds."

"Sir, you don't think it's…them do you?"

The old sailor laughed. "After thirteen years? We hunted them down and fished their food source out. The only creatures prowling around this cape are the turtles and the coral reefs."

Jimmy was not convinced. "Sir, if we have a viable threat, then we need to alert the crew now and turn back."

The older man lightly rapped on a riveted panel along the wall up the steps. "Those damn things only managed to take down small fishing boats. This ship weighs tons and is larger than all those victimized boats combined. Even if they _were_ still around and tried to take us down, we're a tank." He waved Jimmy off. "Now go on, go get you something to eat and stop worrying."

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><p>Sam's parents returned to their table in a delightful mood. Their business conversations with local and foreign investors had gone well, with several meetings already set on their books. The sun had fully sunk beneath the horizon, and the darkness of the open night softened the deck lights into stars.<p>

"Isn't this exciting?" Pamela Manson laughed as she clinked a glass with her husband and sat down beside her daughter. "We haven't been on a cruise in so long! It's just delightful that the cruise industry is finally stabilizing again."

"Yes, it's quite fascinating," Sam deadpanned, raising a brow.

Her mother pursed her lips at her. "You mean you're not enjoying this? Sammikins, we're swimming in luxury!"

She leaned her head on her hand, scrunching the white tablecloth with her elbow. "You're _always_ swimming in luxury, mom. What makes this any different?"

"Because we haven't had a cruise like this since before the War. You've no idea how difficult it's been to rebuild everything up from ruins. No thanks to those…_Merfolk_." Pamela said the word with a sniff, as the syllables upon her cherry lips were distasteful. "Nasty, disgusting creatures."

Thurston Manson nodded. "Their attacks dropped our coastal stocks by nearly sixty percent."

Sam tilted her head. "…You know," she said slowly, "just because they were hungry doesn't mean that they were inherently evil. Maybe they were just desperate."

"They were demons, Sammy," Pamela said haltingly. "Total, irrevocable trash. Some failing of evolution, perhaps."

Sam laughed, almost delighted by her mother's narrow-minded response. "Because being hungry makes us all angels."

Thurston gave his daughter a concerned look as he set down his glass cabernet. "This isn't a laughing matter," he said slowly. "Those things killed hundreds of fishermen and ate them. They were attacking us. Maybe they looked human from the waist up, but they weren't at all."

"And were we any better?" Sam pressed, raising a brow at her father. "We killed them all with no mercy."

"It had to be done," Thurston said, voice ringing with the dull thud of finality. "It is kill or be killed sometimes, as much as we don't want to admit it."

The Mer Massacres during which panicking humans burnt captured merfolk alive had lasted for the entire final year of the War. According to the Global Oceanic Defense, the brutal war against them, and the quick dispatch of the captured ones, had wiped out the species. Whatever merfolk were, they would not be coming back.

"Dad, I've seen the pictures," Sam said. "We strung them up and set them on fire, and we shot at them point-blank. We didn't even give them a chance to explain themselves."

"They did not have the ability to speak like us," Thurston sniffed. "They were simply animals with too much power."

"But they had emotions," Sam pressed. "In those pictures, some were _crying_. You call that inhuman?"

Pamela leaned forward, her smile a bit tight as her eyes roved to see if anyone was listening. "You're always so caring," she laughed. "Even for things that don't deserve it." She patted her daughter on the back, half in love and half in warning. "Just focus on all of the good things that came out of it! We have our oceans back." Then the woman lifted a shrimp into her mouth and nearly swooned at the taste. "Which means," she said with a muffled voice, daintily patting her red lips against a napkin as she swallowed the shrimp. "That we have full reign over seafood again."

Sam looked down at the fish on her plate and cringed, pushing it away. "I think I'll just stick with fruit," she said. "Something that doesn't have a face on it."

The lights on the ship flickered for but a second, and it cast strange shadows on everyone.

No one paid it much attention.

Sam eyed the fish, wondering for the millionth time what level of pain it could feel. Wondering what would it be like if their situations were reversed and she was flayed on a plate instead.

Her heart rose in indignation.

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><p>Deep within the waters, bellies scraped against sand and seaweed. Fingers grabbed at coral reefs to leverage the rest of their bodies. Long, shining tails erupted from beneath the ocean floor, and shadows shot up through the currents.<p>

The thin, streamlined bodies grouped together. Flashing tails of dark colors—black, gray, silver—all glinted in the weak light of the sunset. Then the sun sank, and they became nothing more than black masses, indistinguishable from the darkness of the surrounding waters.

They were on the hunt, now that food was swimming into their waters.

The shadows trailed after the massive wake of the ship, remaining just behind the churning bubbles generated by the four large turbines. The creatures twisted and turned in the fizzled water, grouping together in sharp triangles. In their webbed hands were various tools: dismantled shark jaws, the nose of a sawfish (which looked not unlike a bony chainsaw), and whale bone sharpened by teeth into sleek armor and clubs.

A high-pitched screech echoed across the waters, and they began to swim closer to the turbines, opening their maws with high-frequency sounds that bounced off the hull of the ship.

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><p>"Agh!" cried out the technician, pulling his headset off with in a blur. His whole head burned with the sound of sharp static—a horrible screech too inhuman. It almost sounded like a wail, but the pitch was too high. The radar blitzed, and the screen sparked strangely with a great wave of green light before it died.<p>

His ears began to bleed as he looked in shock at his headset, broken on the floor. Then he held a shaking hand to his ear.

"Jim, hey—you alright, kid?"

"I don't know," the technician called out, voice shaky. His heart was pounding. "Something's wrong, man. Really wrong." When he looked back at the radar screen, he realized the screen had gone black. He tried to raise the sensitivity of the radar, but nothing happened. He hit it with a desperate fist.

"What's wrong, Jimmy?"

"Something's interfering with our radar. And our communications. It's like a…frequency is blocking ours. We're dead in the water."

The old man froze a bit, something jogging his memory. "That's how they said it would start. But that's impossible."

Jimmy became desperate. "Sir, can we get a radio down to the engines team? I think we have substantial evidence that this cove is still infested. We need to tell them that—"

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><p>Sam nearly fell out of her chair as the entire ship, once steaming along so smoothly, suddenly jerked to a stop, its bow nearly lifting out of the water at an alarming angle before crashing hard on its starboard side, sending waves of water gushing across the decks.<p>

"What the—?" cried out several guests. They all tentatively managed to get on their feet. Many men and women cried indignantly at the spill of red wine upon their expensive clothes. For a time, the shock and surprise left them in a roar.

And then they all realized that the ship was rocking in place. It had stopped moving forward. The four powerful engines gave off an awful grinding sound, as if they were caught by something, and then the sound eventually dropped off into silence.

The lights flickered again, and died. People began to huddle in the total darkness, cries of fear and confusion rising above the anger.

"What's happening?"

"Did the whole ship lose power?"

The Mansons had stood up from their table and were now moving closer to the crowd grouping together in the center of the deck. Pamela was gasping in anger. "Why, I never," she said. "Everything was going so well! Thurston, I say we should positively sue for the lack of proper operational attention to this ship! I mean, they said that the renovations were perfectly—"

An awful, piercing sound suddenly echoed in the air, and Pamela's criticisms died out in her throat. Strange thumps pounded along the hull. Several guests began to grow uneasy.

Thurston grabbed for his wife and for Sam. "I hope that was just a pod of dolphins," he said slowly, eyes narrowing.

Pamela's eyes were wide and distant. "I don't think so," she whispered. "It's like a wail, dear. Oh, it's awful!"

The thumping sound and screeches increased, and they realized with increasing horror that something was climbing up the tall sides of the ship. The hisses grew louder, reverberating off the ship's angles in a cacophony of sound.

"Oh my God," breathed one of the passengers. "It's them. We're gonna die."

"G.O.D. said they killed them all!" A women cried helplessly, "It can't be them; it can't!"

Sam held on tighter to her father's vest, feeling hopelessly insignificant and powerless. She'd always been in control, her entire life. She swallowed hard at thought of what would happen. "Dad," she said hesitantly, "Please tell me this isn't what I think it is."

He began backing them all away from the crowd. "We need to get inside. Now."

Sam huffed in fear. "Dad, seriously, you can't possibly think that these are—?"

_ Bang._ A webbed hand clamped around the top railing, and a body hauled itself up. Powerful muscles heaved over the side of the ship, and people flinched, crying out in fear, backing away. In the dim moonlight, its body almost seemed to glow. It eyes were red, its skin green. On its almost-human face was a disturbing smile, its maw full of sharp teeth widening at the sight of them.

For a second, it did not move. Its seaweed-like dreadlocks fell upon its shoulders in matted waves, and its head tilted. It eyed them in a calculating way.

The humans froze in awe and horror.

All along the glass siding and rails appeared other creatures—both male and female. Each one looked different. One had blue skin, another almost a human, fleshy color. Many were young, some old. Their eyes glowed. And from the waist down was a plethora of different fins and tales and glimmering fish scales. Their clicks and hisses snapped from behind thin lips, their clawed hands raising sharp bone weapons.

Sam's eyes widened at the unnumbered group. Her knees weakened a bit—these were _real_. They were merfolk. Who ate humans. "Oh my God," she breathed shakily.

Everything felt horrifically surreal. How many times had she stared at old pictures of their burnt corpses, wishing to meet a live one?

Before anyone could move, the merfolk opened their mouths, and a piercing screech shattered every glass panel. The humans flinched and cried out. The creatures slammed hard onto the deck, their powerful arms and tail dragging them forward in snarls and a mindless, hunger frenzy.

People screamed and began to run.

The merfolk lunged after them.

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><p><strong>AN:** _ P__lease leave me a review with your thoughts and comments! Thanks! :) _


	2. The Creatures and Their Hunger

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Wow, I was not expecting so much support regarding this story. I really, really appreciate that. __**Special thanks to Invader Johnny, The Fruit and the Loopy, ShadowDragon357, Reid Phantom, too enigmatic 2 b urs, marko37713, AgentMandark, amiraphantom, Rainosa, DeathBright, Tacolady22, WerewolfCrime, Kiomori, Guest, MahoganyShadow, elnine27, El0ndon, TrustyFoxy, and Lucky-the-cat for reviewing chapter one!**_

_Please note that this story is rated T for violence and gore/disturbing images. The chapter below may contain triggers for some people._

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><p><strong>Beyond the Depths<strong>

**Chapter 2: The Creatures and Their Hunger**

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><p>Thurston released his daughter and wife to grab an iron chair beside a table. His fingers shook as they wrapped hard around the armrests. "Stay behind me," he told his family, desperate fear echoing in his eyes. The merfolk had surrounded them on all sides— their open maws clamping on arms and legs. They swung their bone weapons down hard, crashing several victims to the ground.<p>

Sam stood in shell-shock, eyes wide at the flashes of red, the spray of blood. The sounds of death cries and triumphant snarls rattled the air. It was massacre. She could hear clothes ripping, bones snapping. The beads and glitter of dresses ran red in the dark.

Nausea made her light-headed.

Her mother began to cry, her beautiful face streaking with mascara as she turned to Sam and threw her arms around her daughter. "Don't look, baby," she sobbed. "We're going to be just fine. Don't look."

The merfolk's clicking noises grew louder. The human crowd had dispersed to every area of the deck, cornered by predators. The clicks sounded like laughter, the chomps of their jaws against bone like death tolls. Fewer people were left to buffer the Mansons from the wrath of the merfolk.

Sam's fingers wrapped hard on her mother's arm. "We're dead," she breathed, purple eyes wide with knowledge. "Mom—!"

Her mind kept blitzing back to the images of merfolk strung up by their hands on the beaches, their bodies burnt and deformed. No, these beings couldn't be just killing machines. They were supposed to be innocent and beautiful. This whole scene was wrong. Everything was wrong!

Thurston brandished the chair before them as they began to back away towards to the door into the ship. "We need to get inside," he repeated, voice shaking. "Pamela, you and Sam—get inside now!"

Pamela was hysterical. "How?" she cried. "We're surrounded!"

Everything happened too quick—everyone was a blur of chaos. Sam realized that the status quo was not in her favor, and she and her family would die if she did nothing. "Dad, tell me what to do!" she begged, voice breaking. "I—what can we—how can we stop this?!"

Her father breathed, voice wavering, "We can't."

"Can we talk them down?" Sam demanded in fear.

Her mother looked terrified even by the idea. "Of course not! They're not even human!"

But Sam was not convinced. After a split second of indecision, she moved away from her parents, purple eyes blurred with tears. "Please!" she screamed to the wild mass. "Please, stop! We can talk this out!"

"Sam, _no_!" her father cried, but it was too late. Sam's screams had attracted attention.

One of the merfolk—a sleek female with blue, fiery hair—looked up from a motionless victim and then lunged forward. Sam froze. In a split second, Thurston stepped before Sam and crashed the wrought-iron chair against the mermaid's head, and the creature collapsed onto the deck, dazed. Her clawed hands and sharp jaws quivered strangely, as if in convulsion.

Sam stopped breathing, eyes wide. "Dad?"

"Get back!" he said. His trim arms were not designed for such brutality. He looked worn and afraid. He raised the chair to slam it one final time on the mermaid to ensure it would stay down. Bright, green blood was splattered on the chair legs in spots—the chair legs had scratched deep into the creature's back. Sam backed away, knees weak, heart pounding. "Oh my God," she cried. She looked at her father in awe and love and terror. "Dad."

"Get out of here!" he begged her. "You hear me? Get—"

Something slammed into him from the side, and it cut him off. It was a male creature. Its hair was green fire, and its skin looked almost metallic. It snarled hard and deliberately wrenched Thurston away from the blue-haired mermaid and down to the deck floor.

Pamela screamed, and Sam gasped as she watched her father struggle against the creature. Its fangs sunk deep into the man's arm as it dug a sawfish bone into the man's side. Thurston cried out. It was a strangled noise, gurgled. Something red welled from his lips.

Sam's mind tore in agony. "_Dad_!"

Pamela quickly raced forward and grabbed Sam, her shaking fingers pulling her close. "Sammikins," her mother cried as she raised a hastily-grabbed steak knife from a table and pushed it into Sam's shaking palm. "You're strong. You can make it."

Her breath hitched. "I don't know—w-what to do," she sobbed. Her fingers barely curled around the steak knife's wooden handle. "Mom—"

The mother squeezed her daughter one more time before she pushed her towards one of the doors back into the ship. "Run," she begged. "Baby, run!"

Sam tightened her hand around her mother's arm, almost mindless. "No!"

Pamela shoved her away again in a desperate attempt to save her. "Go!" she cried. "Inside the ship—hide!"

In the failure of her mind, Sam's legs began to obey of their own volition, and she turned around to run, only to miss the sight of a dark shadow latching onto her mother's bare leg and dragging her to the floor. Her father's body was now limp beneath the green male creature, something red and shining leeching out fast onto the deck.

Her mother's voice strangled in a scream of agony—then cut off.

Tears welled in Sam's eyes as she began to hyperventilate, gasping. The door. The door inside. She stumbled in the darkness, the screams of passengers ringing in her ears. She tripped over mauled bodies, the feasting merfolk too occupied to race after her. Her legs nearly tangled in her skirt. She felt the sting of danger with every step. She was entirely unprotected but for the slim steak knife clenched in her fist.

She was almost there. Almost there—almost—

As she reached for the glass door to the bar area, she did not see a black and white shadow trail after her. She grabbed onto the handle of the door and was about to swing it open when she caught a close reflection of something glowing behind her.

Sam turned around, and her heart stopped.

A young male creature was raised up on his tail to strike, his face twisted in hunger and mindless violence, black claws extended to attack.

In desperation, she swiped the steak knife at him and caught his shoulder. He hissed and pulled back, pain crossing his humanoid face. Bright green blood welled against his pale skin. Sam took the advantage to grab onto the door and slip inside into a staff kitchen and bar area.

Just as the door shut behind her, the creature lunged and thumped against the glass with an angry snarl.

Sam stopped, swallowing hard. For a second, she did not move, thinking the merboy did not have the intelligence to open a door. But then the doorknob turned, and she flipped around, grabbing at chairs, plates, anything to block the hall as she began to run again. The items crashed and cracked on the floor.

The merboy shoved his way through the open door, hissing in fury. His green eyes were glowing behind the wet straggles of his white hair, his neck gills and fins flared. A trill of hisses and clicks snapped from his jaws, and he lurched forward, his strong and lithe arms dragging his body through the wreckage of broken plates and chairs.

He was tracking Sam now, her scent imprinted deep in his mind. A dark smile twitched on his face, for he knew that Sam was alone and on the run. It was just a matter of time before she ran out of energy.

And then he would feast.

Not too far ahead, Sam was openly crying as she held onto the steak knife tighter, pushing herself harder. "Help!" she screamed. As she pushed through the double doors from the kitchen into the main hall of the ship, she realized everything was abandoned. There were no staff members to be found. She could feel the creature closing in, and there was no longer movable objects —no plates or chairs—to use against him. "Somebody! Please!"

With a sob, she darted to wild eyes around. It was the main floor of the deck, where there were music lounges and libraries. If she continued to run in a straight line, the merboy would inevitably catch up to her. She had to think of strategy. She had to figure out ways to slow him down and escape.

But the deeper she went into the ship, the more she had only the emergency lights to flicker up the path. They did little to raise her spirits. Even the rich oak panels that lined the cruise ship's halls meant nothing now, even though she had bemoaned them to her parents as a travesty against forests. She ran past them with little thought, her core directive overriding everything but _survive survive survive—_

Clicks and deep-throated snarls drew closer. The merboy's slick body and scales slid easily on the floor tiles, and he was pushing himself harder, closing the gap between them.

Without thinking, Sam grabbed onto a passing door. She yanked on the handle and nearly swung the door off the hinges. She quickly ran in and shut it behind her, and she heard the merboy slide on the tiles, sinking his claws in to slow down and reverse his path.

There was a lock on the inside of the door—it was meant to be a private room—and she turned it with shaking hands. Then she backed away to search for a solid hiding place. But it was just a private ballroom, lit only by a few emergency lights. A wide, empty space with an empty stage. "Shit," she breathed, eyes dilating again. She'd been hoping for a room with sharp metal in it. At least chairs. Anything. But even the lights were bolted down here.

Something banged into the wooden door from the outside. Sam flinched, heart pounding. The creature hadn't given up. She could hear its muffled growls. _Bang._

_Bang!_ The door began to splinter on its hinges. _Bang!_

Her heart stopped. There was no other weapon—no place to hide in the ballroom. So she did the only thing she could do. With shaking steps, she moved to the side of the door. She grabbed on tight to the steak knife. And she raised it up, waiting, trying to breathe.

Deep down, she began praying to anything and everything that she would survive. She felt sick and cornered. She was honestly thinking of deliberately stabbing a living being to protect herself. But maybe she wouldn't have to kill him. Maybe she could just injure him enough so she could get away.

_Bang!_ The door suddenly caved inwards in pieces, and from the wind of splinters emerged the slick, glowing body of the merboy in a fury.

She lunged. Out of the corner of his eye, the creature saw her. He twisted his entire body, narrowly avoiding her blade. With a quick move, he slapped the knife out of her hand, his trim muscles and wet skin like steel. She cried out at the sudden pain that radiated from her wrist, which crunched under his force. The knife clattered to the floor.

For one blip in time, she and the merboy were nearly face to face, both breathing hard.

The slits on his neck flared in and out. And she realized in that moment that there was truly no humanity within the creature's humanoid eyes. Only wild, manic need.

The muffled rage of the massacre from the deck still echoed in the background.

The sounds inspired the creature to lunge again. Without any other weapons, Sam grabbed onto the merboy's neck gills and pulled hard sideways, grimacing and crying against the pain radiating from her hand. A cry of his own tore from his throat as Sam's fingers dug into his sensitive flesh. He twisted his long and powerful tail around to slam into the back of her legs.

She teetered, but a hiss strangled from the creature's lips as Sam's fingers only dug deeper into his gills to remain balanced. In a last, desperate move, his black claws locked upon her forearms and swiped down hard.

Pain erupted along her skin and she gasped, letting him go. The creature collapsed hard to the ground, eyes wide in great pain, his gills flared and bruised green.

While the merboy was distracted, Sam looked down at her injured arms. Strong, red lines stood against her flesh, some of them seeping open with blood. This wasn't good. They burned with something greater than just cuts, and she winced.

_Poison_, she realized. Its claws had poison, much like the fins of several fish in the sea. And now that poison was in her blood.

In awe and horror, she froze, not sure if it were better to remain still and keep the poison from spreading, or try to finish off the creature and worry about the poison later.

The gasping merboy looked up at her, dazed from her attack. For a second, Sam thought that perhaps they had finally worn each other out. She had nearly choked him, and he had poisoned her. But then his body coiled, and he lunged at her leg, his sharp, razor teeth sinking deep into the soft tendons of her ankle.

She cried out, eyes widening as she faltered. He jerked her leg before she could regain her balance, and she crashed hard to the floor. In that second, the world blurred and slowed down. Her head smacked the floor; the wind flew from her lungs, and Sam grew limp, body shuddering.

The creature unlocked its jaws from her ankle and gave off some triumphant click, its cold breath icing the hot blood that was now running down her skin. It climbed on top of her to hold her down, although Sam was too exhausted, too shell-shocked and pained to really fight back.

She gasped at its breath-stealing weight and how its claws dug into her arms. She could feel the heavy weight of its tail, slick like fish scales, against her own bare legs. Somewhere along the lines, the seams of her long dress had split.

"P-please," she begged, voice shaky. Tears began to blur her eyesight as she began to sob for herself, for her parents. "Please stop."

The merboy's white hair had raised up in wild locks, drying from his physical exertion in the open air. His skin and scales looked nearly dry. His strange colorings made him look almost angelic, but a damnably human smirk curled his bloody lips into something demonic. A full set of sharp, razor teeth smiled back down at her.

The intelligence in his electric green eyes, now that he had achieved his blood lust's goal, was sharp and calculating. The manic need in him was dark with options and calculation. Perhaps he was wondering how to best kill her off.

She latched onto that intelligence.

"You're not just a killer," Sam breathed desperately, voice shaky between sobs. "You don't have to be. It doesn't have to be like this."

His head tilted a bit. He looked surprised that she seemed to be trying to actively communicate with him. In his uncertainty, he bared his fangs at her and hissed again. She squeezed her eyes shut, fear exploding in her. His chest was pressed against hers. She imagined he could probably hear her heart beat, which felt as if it would explode.

At least her parents had gone quickly. She sobbed openly, begging him with her eyes for mercy. "This isn't how it's supposed to be," she cried. "Can you hear me? Do you understand me?"

He hesitated, pulling away from her neck, retracting his fangs. His green eyes narrowed at her, his black claws tightening on her wrists. He hissed again, his neck gills flaring. But his eyes were suddenly less filled with bloodlust and more with awareness. For the first time, it appeared as though the creature registered that it could actually understand her.

"I kn-know you're h-hungry," Sam whispered shakily. "Maybe I can h-help some other way?"

A wild moment passed, and the merboy stared at the human he had claimed as his food. He wondered in great curiosity why it was talking back. Food did not talk back. His tribe had explained that humans were not capable of real pain, or of real intelligence. And yet his food appeared capable of both.

As he hesitated, the last bead of salt water slipped from his skin. The ocean had dried out from his body, leaving him parched and dry, his scales and fins tightening up. He grimaced a bit at the discomfort of it, his gills flaring again.

And then something strange happened that not even the merboy had expected. A white, glowing light—like rings of stars—stormed down his entire body.

Everything changed.

His white hair bled black. His green eyes melted into blue. Fins, gills, and claws retracted into his skin, and his tale split into fleshy, pale legs. His strange transformation made him feel disoriented and imbalanced, and he was unable to control his weak body.

With a muffled cry, he collapsed on top of the human girl, trembling and wide-eyed.

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><p><strong>AN:** _Several mermaid legends express the concept of merfolk being able to revert to a human form by either taking off their tail skin or simply drying out. I have appropriated that concept here as a nod to Danny Fenton's canon status as a half-human. I also used inspiration from the movie Jaws to write this chapter, haha. _

_As an aside, the blue-haired mermaid and metallic merman were respectively a cameo of Ember and Skulker, who are sort of one of my favorite ghost couples to ship in normal canon. :) _

_Please leave me a review with your thoughts, comments, ideas, and requests! Thanks!_


	3. The Double-Skinned One and His Not-Food

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thanks to amiraphantom, TrustyFoxy, Invader Johnny, Kiomori, Vin, Guest, DeathBright, Jesusfreak124, MahoganyShadow, DPN2012, too enigmatic 2 b urs, Dracoya, funnybombninja, Phantomgal66, MushuFireLorde, Savirox, and bookworm23821 for reviewing last time!_

_Sorry for the late update. Real life happened. :( _

_This chapter is rated T for violence and non-explicit references to nudity._

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><p><strong>Beyond the Depths<strong>

**Chapter 3: The Double-Skinned One and His Not-Food**

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><p>For a time, neither of them moved. The merboy's breath were quick puffs against her slick neck, his now-warm body pressed against hers, his long legs twisted about hers. They both trembled in exhaustion and surprise.<p>

The sounds of the nearby massacre still shook through the walls. And so the boy pushed himself up with his strong arms, and he fell sideways in a disjointed twist. As he hit the floor, he realized the full extent of his transformation. He looked down at himself, and a human cry tore from his lips. His blue eyes were wide as he stared at his blunt and separated fingers, then at his fully-human, finless legs. He looked up at Sam in consternation and fear, rubbing his neck which was now devoid of gills.

Sam sat up shakily, just as confused. She almost didn't even catch that she was staring at a naked boy now, who suddenly seemed to care no more for his immodest predicament than he did of the fact that a massacre was still happening only a short distance away.

The boy tried to move to his hands and knees, thinking back to how he had seen humans move with their legs. Then he tried to drag himself up, but the flimsy and foreign weights instead of a solid tail terrified him. He felt uneven on the knobby joints called…knees?

Sam looked over at the steak knife that had fallen in their fight, her shaking fingertips grabbing for it. The wooden handle was a cold, dead weight against her palm. With the merboy's strange transformation, she was now at an advantage, and so she forced herself to stand despite the pain. She limped forward, her ankle bleeding, but her grip was tight on the knife with an instinctive need to survive.

The boy tried to hiss; it didn't sound right coming from human vocal cords. It sounded sad and fearful like a moan. But the fearful look in his baby blue eyes—so human—made Sam hesitate. The scratch across his shoulder was sluggishly bleeding red instead of that strange green. There were dark bruises swelling about his throat—the human equivalent of her attempting to choke him by pulling on his gills.

_ He looks…totally human…_

She lowered the knife, eyes wide. She couldn't kill him now that she could see his emotions. "Just…" she whispered, voice breaking. "D-don't. Don't follow me."

He breathed hard, as if struggling with his own lungs, and stared at her in some depressed, confused defeat. He nearly collapsed onto the floor again, his strength waning. _Okay_, his body seemed to say, even as he looked away from her. _I won't._

She began to step forward on her pained ankle, the thought of limping out the door becoming harder and harder with each step. Her heart was pounding. Everything felt heavier on her body, as if her muscles were pushing against concrete. Tears streamed down her face.

Was it the poison?

But before she could limp forward more than a few steps, something crashed against the walls outside. Another merman—fully grown, muscles bulging—suddenly hissed from the door, its face twisted with bloodlust.

Sam cried out and moved back, raising her knife. Although the merboy had been larger than herself, this merman was even larger. Her heart nearly stopped. _Oh my God._

The merman that had tracked them down the hall was various shades of green. Its long, powerful tail looked like nothing more than twisted vines, and dripping seaweed hung from the angles of its body. It turned its nearly inhuman, beak-like nose towards her. Its red eyes swept from Sam and her knife to the trembling boy on the floor.

Then it hissed at Sam, and it began to drag itself forward with sharp claws, mindlessly destroying the tiles.

The boy tried to click out a language desperately, perhaps to beg for help from his own kind, but his vocal cords failed him. The merman's neck snapped to him, and its red eyes tracked the boy. Instead of concern, no recognition registered on the merman's face, and he hissed at the boy, baring his fangs.

The boy's eyes widened with great fear. _Oh no—_

The creature instead lunged towards the boy, who gasped in surprised, his arms barely managing to raise up in time to stop the merman.

Sam's heart stalled again, as she watched the merman's sharp teeth bear down on the boy's arm. The once-merboy cried out with an agonized gasp of pain as his kin locked its jaws on his arm. The sound of the boy's ragged tenor voice was so human, it echoed with the cries of the other victims in the distance.

Sam's heart stopped. "Ohmigod," she breathed, voice strangling with fear. Thick, red blood welled down the boy's arm as he collapsed in a hard fall beneath the merman, his head painfully smacking against the floor.

She was watching something—some_one_—die all over again.

Her mother's and father's faces wavered in the back of her mind.

In a split decision, she lunged forward. She stabbed the steak knife deep into the seaweed-merman's neck and wrenched hard. Its jaws unhinged in a muffled cry, tearing away from the boy's arm to rush at Sam. Then it seemed to recognize that it had been mortally wounded. Some kind of pain—an awareness?—twisted its face into something more human. It stumbled at her feet, and thick blood began to pool down its throat.

Its limbs relaxed and twitched in the silence, the seaweed leaves falling limp in the dips of sea water. Then its glow began to flicker, and the light of its body died into silence as well.

For a second, Sam's mind fragmented. She'd killed. Her arms shook. She'd just killed something. A living soul.

And for what?

Her breath hitched as she looked to the boy she'd instinctively protected. His blue eyes were still wide towards heaven, face pained and dazed as his limp body quivered. The fingers on his mauled arm twitched with strange movements, as if the merman's bite had destroyed his nerves.

She half-thought to leave him there—he was not really human, whatever he was. He had tried to kill her, whatever he was. His poison was still infecting her. But something in her heart balked at the thought of leaving him there to bleed, afraid and confused.

Whatever he was.

Hesitantly, she dropped down beside him, the ripped shreds of her dress fanning out and soaking in the blood from the merman and the boy. "Come on," she whispered. Her whole body was beginning to hurt in ways she'd never imagined. Tears began to blur her eyesight, distorting his image. "We gotta get out of here."

She touched his shoulder, surprised to discover that he radiated heat—like a normal human. With a wince of pain, she locked her arms beneath his shoulders and tried to lift him up into a sitting position. His human muscles and bones were heavy.

Something registered in his dazed expression as he suddenly began to help her, using his uninjured arm to steady himself. He winced, inhaling sharply at the pain that radiated through his body. Hitting his head had made the room spin in ways he had never felt before. But then his blue eyes landed on his fallen kin—Sam's steak knife still sticking straight from its neck, the glowing green blood now reaching in rivers towards them both.

He stared at the merman as if he'd just lost a family member—and perhaps he just did. He looked terrified and frightened as he instinctively pulled his injured arm towards his stomach in a cradle. Tears of pain streamed down his face. "Ngh," he cried. The tone was a simple tenor, not unpleasant. "Ngh!"

He looked back to her, his expression so lost and confused that she swallowed hard. Sam was unsure if his expression was from physical pain (did merfolk feel pain the same way?) or from emotional pain (what emotions did they really have?).

She knew at some level he understood her. "C-can they smell us?" she whispered, debating if communicating with him was worth the risk of rising his ire. "Are others tracking us?"

His face twitched in pain. All he could smell was his own blood and that of the merman's. Both were a strange metallic. But he shook his head, even as tears ran down his face. His kin must have followed the water trail he himself had left behind, for merfolk did not have noses like the sharks when out of water. The stale and dry air out of water stifled that ability.

It didn't mean another couldn't curiously follow the water trail and find them.

He began to breathe uneasily, realizing that he could be hunted again by his own kind. The thought stretched horror across his vulnerable features.

Sam took that as a sign that they were not yet safe. So she grabbed onto the boy's uninjured arm, throwing it across her shoulders. "We gotta get out of here," she said, wincing as she braced herself. Then she began to stand unsteadily, nearly crying as she took on his weight and hers. She couldn't leave him behind now that she knew he was being targeted by his own kind. The boy tried to drag himself up to a stand as he saw her stand, but his legs were weak, and he shook on his feet, leaning heavy on her for support.

He did not question her, a sense of thankfulness overwhelming her as he realized that now they were allies. He blinked away the strange tears that blurred his vision.

How strange that his once-food was helping him against his own kind. Did this human have memories? Did she not remember that he had tried to eat her? The puncture wounds of his arm were bleeding profusely in a river of red that had already begun to drip down his fingers and onto the human's shoulder and back, and yet she seemed capable of ignoring that as well.

Just what _were _humans? And he was beginning to wonder, what were merfolk?

"Come on," she said, voice strangled as she re-shouldered his arm and tightened her grip on his sharp waist. She sounded breathless, a weird wheeze corrupting the pleasant, feminine sound of her vocal chords. "Just…step with me…?"

He nodded once, grimacing through his tears as he tried to mimic her movements. Slowly, the two of them limped forward.

She dragged them through the wreckage of the door and down the hall, eyes wide and sightless. Screams of humans still echoed off the walls. The probability that the two could be spotted by wandering merfolk from the door was high enough. They needed to get totally out of sight, and fast.

Her limbs were shaking. She no longer knew if any of this was real, if she were truly still alive, if this being holding onto her was truly human or still animal enough to eat her. With the poison pumping through her system, and with her blood loss, she feared she would not make it much longer. So she stumbled them to the first door she found, and she reached out with shaking fingers, praying that it was not locked. The doorknob turned easily. _Oh, thank God._

Upon opening the door, she realized the room was a walk-in linen closet full of clean table clothes and napkins—most likely supplies for the ballroom they'd just left behind. She pushed him into the closet, and he collapsed against one of the shelves with a breathless yelp, and she dove in beside him, shutting the door after them both.

They were both very silent as they sunk to the floor in a disjointed stumble of limbs. Only one small, emergency light flickered above the towels and tablecloths. It cast eerie shadows over them both, and the screams of the massacre on the surrounding deck echoed even into the linen closet. And so the two of them huddled together instinctively, sudden allies in the midst of darkness.

It was the first chance the boy had to cognitively acknowledge just what his kin had done to him. "Ngh," he cried helplessly as he lifted his injured arm to inspect the damage, swallowing hard at the deep puncture wounds. He tentatively licked his bloody fingers to rid taste the strange human blood, then his face twisted, and he stuck out his tongue in disgust. His bare ribs—pressed up against him, Sam noticed how far they stuck out, how emaciated he was—expanded and contracted in short, quick breaths, almost as if he were struggling to breathe in enough air. Perhaps he was going into shock.

She supposed they'd both seen better days.

With a grimace, Sam leaned forward, pulling back the shreds of her long dress to reveal her injured ankle. Her whole foot was shining red with blood from the puncture wounds of his bite, and she felt a strange disconnect staring at it. Was that her foot? Was it bad if she could no longer feel the pain? Or was that maybe a good thing, because she was pretty sure she'd be screaming otherwise?

A few of the shallower puncture wounds looked dark, as if they'd begun to coagulate, but some were still freely bleeding. In fear, she grabbed a black cloth napkin from beside her and folded it into a triangle, wincing as she pressed it against her bleeding ankle. She tried to tie it tight, realizing that she could not afford to lose any more blood—or she'd risk passing out. She was already starting to get woozy and sedated. Or maybe that was the poison.

The boy watched in tentative interest, still cradling his injured arm. He supposed the object the human was using was perhaps like seaweed, which was what he would usually use to wrap up injuries. It did not look like seaweed, though. Just as she no longer looked like food. And he no longer felt as one with the merfolk.

She looked over at the boy sitting in awkward angles beside her, blushing at the realization that he was still naked and completely unaware of it. "Here," she said, wincing as she reached up and tossed a tablecloth at him. "Cover yourself with this; I'll tie up that bite on your arm in a second."

The boy looked at her, wide-eyed. He nodded slowly, but he was unsure if he really understood her command. He lifted the cloth from the floor with more force than necessary, and he blinked in surprise at its feather weight. He tentatively eyed her again, glancing quick at her ripped dress and the way her legs were exposed but her middle wasn't. He draped the tablecloth around his waist, then he looked back up at her for approval.

Why did she look so relieved suddenly? What did humans feel they had to hide on their bodies?

What _was_ he, anyway?

He patted his legs through the tablecloth, tilting his head. Then he looked over at her legs and hummed, his voice raising up, almost in a question.

Sam looked taken aback that he appeared to be wanting her opinion on something. "Don't look at me," she whispered dryly. "I have no idea what happened. Just cause you look human doesn't mean you are."

He looked not entirely unhappy at her response. Perhaps this new form of his was not permanent. Maybe it was just some kind of…ability that his tribe simply did not use. He winced at the nerve pain that suddenly ran down his arm. If his kin's response to his transformation was any indication, he could understand why they would not take a human form.

"I'm Sam, by the way," she said, looking away. "Now that we've almost killed each other, I figure you should at least know my name."

He looked down at her tied ankle and bit his lip. In this new form, his teeth were still a bit sharp, but more squared and most likely unable to shred as they once could. Hard to think that he, in his hunger, had lashed out at this strange creature that had seemingly forgiven him.

And she was offering him her title? Her name, by which all other humans addressed her? (They had names?)

He looked up at her in a curious awe. _Sam._ Her title was simple, a configuration of syllables that by itself would not translate well back into the mer-tongue, for human language was so open and low in the throat. He wondered if the name "Sam" held any special meaning to it—if humans were truly intelligent enough for metaphor and abstract concepts. But he supposed, having seen her bind her own injuries, that humans were not so mindless as he'd been told. And if Sam was so adamant on covering the body, it was possible that humans had some kind of unspoken culture that included abstract concepts.

She held her hand out. "Give me your arm," she said plainly, trying to hide the waver in her voice. "We need to stop you from bleeding out too."

He blinked, then tentatively raised his injured arm. She slowly reached for him, as if afraid to scare him with sudden movements. His bloody fingers still twitched uneasily from the damage the merman had caused, and he flinched when Sam's warm hand lightly grabbed at his wrist to steady him. His lithe, corded muscles reacted to her, skin to skin. He could feel her warmth, her heartbeat not unlike his heart, pounding hard—

When she pressed a black napkin to the bite wound, the boy flinched again and squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head away from her to hide his pain. Unbidden tears welled in his eyes, and he bared his teeth in an instinctive reaction.

She hesitated, nearly letting go in fear. She did not want to make him feel as a caged animal. But he forced his lips together, hiding those still-too-sharp teeth. He did not try to pull his arm away from her.

She figured that was enough of a green light to keep going.

"…This, uh, could get infected really easily," Sam said, trying to wipe away the blood to see just how shredded his arm truly was. It didn't look good. The boy's muscled forearm had puncture wounds around the sensitive inside of his elbow. The beak-like mouth of the merman had been sharp with a double row of teeth.

She wrapped his arm in a tablecloth, struggling a bit with the size and folds. "It's not really meant for tying," she whispered in frustration. "So you're gonna have to keep pressure on it. Got it?"

He nodded, watching her pull away. He clasped onto the cloth around his arm and tightened his grip, grimacing. He could feel the wet of his blood dampen the strange material.

"Okay." And then Sam leaned back, allowing herself to feel dizzy. The adrenaline of being hunted had begun to wear off, her concentration breaking. For the first time, she began to feel her lungs struggle. Sweat glistened off of her temples. "Okay. We're good."

The merboy-turned-human glanced at her with worry, realizing that this human was hiding something wrong with her health. The Sam he had pursued upon the deck had carried no scent of sickness, nor did she look as ill as she did now.

In the flickering light, Sam raised her arms. The bloodied claw marks upon her skin were now a dark purple and swelling. Fear pumped her heart harder. "Shit," she breathed, leaning her head against the wall and closing her eyes. She wanted to cry again, but she had no more tears. She was too exhausted to cry.

The boy glanced down at her arm, blue eyes widening. _Oh._ He'd forgotten that he'd scratched her. His poison was designed as a defense mechanism to slow attackers and prey. Usually, his prey was dead before now—he'd been taught that clean kills were the best kills, and he'd grown used to slicing or using brute force to save prey from suffering. But here Sam was, suffering a slow and painful death. Because of him. And he didn't even want to eat her anymore. _Not food. Sam. _

Sam's pink lips pulled back into a grimace as she inhaled shakily. Her chest began to heave strangely, and her limbs began to quiver. The poison was leeching into her major organs, as her constant movements and pounding heart had increased its spread.

Okay, maybe she had tears to cry after all.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her tears dripping down her face. "N-not good," she whispered, shuddering. If she didn't get help soon, she would likely get worse and worse until…

He tilted his head as he tentatively reached out to her. "Ngh?" he asked, pointing to her arm. He did not entirely understand how humans worked, but he imagined that their blood pumped similarly to how his, er, usually did. And if they were similar, then perhaps his idea would save her life.

Her bloodshot, tired gaze turned to him. A sad smile twitched her lips. "Yeah, looks like you're still k-killing me, huh?"

_ Maybe I'll see mom and dad soon after all. _

But he no longer wished for her death. And he did not know how to convey that beyond carrying out his idea. His long, tapering fingers wrapped about her elbow and wrist. He leaned down, his black hair falling into his face, and he pressed his lips against her skin.

Sam's eyes widened, and she nearly jerked away. "What the—?" A terrible fear rocked through her. Perhaps he was going to eat her alive, chomp down with those still-sharp teeth and tear her to pieces. But he held her gently as he made a sharp noise at her, like a grumble. His blue eyes raised to her, narrowed in a way to say, _Stay put_.

She stilled, swallowing hard. And then he looked back down, and his warm, wet tongue swept over her wounds.

Even in her haze, her face reddened. "Uh…Um." Her voice was tight with embarrassment and confusion. "W-what are you doing?"

The boy's eyes raised to hers, the sharp lines of his face tinging a strange green, as if in a blush. Then he lowered his eyes, and he ran his tongue over her poisoned claw marks again. As an inherently toxic being, he knew he could negate the poison within her. Back when his claws were first growing, he'd nicked himself often and suffered the same, mild symptoms until he licked his wounds. He had never licked someone else's wounds, though. The action was intimate, something that lovers or family usually did for one another—not for complete strangers, and certainly not for humans. But he knew he had little choice if he wanted this human to live.

He only hoped that his poison and his immunity would still work in this strange body of his.

The taste of her blood was metallic and harsh, and his nose scrunched as he licked her wounds again (truly, how did his tribe ever convince him that humans would be appetizing?). But slowly, her arm began to relax in his grip, the muscles unwinding back into a natural rest. He was relieved by the softening lines of her body, which told him that her pain had lessened. Her breath rose and fell more steadily, and her eyes were closed in relief as she rested her head against the shelves.

He pulled away and gently lowered her arm to her side. The purplish hue to her skin was gone, although the deep scratches were still red and inflamed. "Ngh?" he hummed to her, tone upraising with a tentative question. His too-big eyes, still bloodshot with pain and drying tears of his own, were wide with apprehension.

Sam opened her eyes and clenched her fist tentatively, realizing it no longer hurt to do so. "It's better," she breathed. "What you did—it helped."

Her other arm was still trembling, the claw marks angry and puffed. The boy's jaw set with guilt, and he tentatively reached for her other arm. This time, she did not resist him but watched curiously, eyes wide, face flushed, as the merboy licked her wounds again.

"…This is the weirdest first aid ever," she whispered jokingly. She tried to keep her shaking arm still for him, now that she knew he was not trying to kill or eat her.

He did not seem to quite understand 'first aid,' but he understood the gist of her comment. If only she knew what it all meant in mer-culture.

"Do you have a name?" she asked tentatively, feeling a bit more confident now that she knew he would not eat her. "Do your people name each other?"

The boy mulled over her question, and then he nodded, unable to provide more. Her language was as familiar to his mind as his own fins, but he knew his tongue would stumble over it helplessly, just as his new legs stumbled with walking.

In the human tongue, his name translated to 'Phantom,' for he was as dark and silent as the shadows themselves, hardly a slip of a being when the waters were black. He supposed his title also carried a double meaning—he was easily overlooked, nearly invisible to his own tribe. He found himself in awe that this human would even want to know his name. That she would acknowledge him so.

The sound of a screech from the hall echoed loudly, and both of them flinched. And without thinking, they scooted closer, leaning heavy on each other. They knew the other person was their only ally. If they had to fight, injured as they were, they would have to do it together.

Their shuddering breath mixed in the air as the overhead lights flickered. In the moments that passed, nothing happened. The screeches from the hall door lessened, as if whatever had considered entering the ship decided against it.

Sam closed her eyes, feeling tears run down her face. She couldn't take this kind of insanity. "D-do you know when they'll stop?" she whispered, looking back at him. "Is it almost over yet?"

The boy himself appeared just as terrified and uncomfortable. He knew how powerful the Hunger was, and he still felt it, even though he was no longer one with the merfolk and had discovered the taste of human blood was disgusting.

Most likely, his kin would continue to revel in their feast until their stomachs forgot the pang of the Hunger. Which they had felt for a long, long time.

Sam seemed to understand his hesitance and the caged lines of his shoulders. The hope died in her eyes as she turned away, sinking into herself with depression. "I don't wanna die," she whispered with a broken voice. "I don't want to kill anything again. If they find us—" Her breath hitched.

It was all too much for her to handle.

She suddenly couldn't stop crying. _It's my fault mom and dad are dead—I killed—I could still die—why is this happening— _

And something about her breaking spirit swelled a strange protectiveness within the boy, for it reminded him that this human had a soul, and that he owed her a debt for saving his life. If any of his own kin entered the ship and tried to satisfy their Hunger through her flesh, he supposed he would try to protect her as long as he could. They would not recognize him anyways, for he appeared as human and as injured as her.

And so he nuzzled into her bare shoulder to comfort himself and her. His soft black hair was like silk threads against her skin. _Not food. Protect._

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><p><strong>AN**:_ I'm not sure yet where this story is heading. Please review with any thoughts, requests, critiques, etc. Thanks!_


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